


An Unexpected Crash

by MiladyDragon



Category: Secret Adventures of Jules Verne, Torchwood
Genre: Adventure, Crossover, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyDragon/pseuds/MiladyDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a mysterious airship crashed in Bute Park, Jack and the team find a yet-to-be famous visitor and some very familiar names on board.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Crash

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Torchwood Fest's Crossover Fest, from a prompt by tonjavmoore over on LJ. I also have to thank moonfirefic for the Verne-picking, since it's been ages since I've watched the "Secret Adventures of Jules Verne."

 

 

When they’d gotten the unexpected Rift alert, this was the last thing Jack had expected to see.

It lay slightly tilted, one side being dragged down by the weight of the collapsing air bags.  It was all steel, girders and wires and he had to admit it was amazing to look at, even though it had obviously crashed.  At least it had done it in a bit of a clearing; it would have been hell to repair if the gas bags and lines had become tangled in the trees.  As it was, it was going to be shit to clear up.

“That is impressive,” Ianto said, in his place at Jack’s side.

They’d been out to a well-earned meal when the alert had come across Jack’s wrist strap, startling them both.  Toshiko’s predictor program had said it would be a quiet couple of days, so to have gotten it had been a surprise.  They’d made it out to this deserted area of Bute Park in no time, to find what looked like the wreck of a dirigible sitting amid the torn-up ground.

“It is,” Jack agreed.  Even in the darkness of late evening it was a gorgeous machine, and Jack’s hands itched to dig into its controls and see how it functioned.  

“I’ll call the others in,” Ianto offered, “and get with the local constabulary about getting this area cordoned off.”

Jack nodded.  “I’m going to check to see if there was anyone onboard.  Keep your comms open.”

He didn’t have to see Ianto rolling his eyes to know his lover had done just that.  “I’ll get you E.T.A.’s as soon as I have them.  Oh, and here.”  He handed Jack a torch.  “You might need that.”  And then Ianto was gone, heading back to his car to make all the arrangements.

Jack shook his head; trust his lover to be prepared.

Turning on the torch, Jack made his way toward the crashed airship, once again admiring the workmanship in the design.  There was a door in the side of the gondola, and Jack moved toward it, hoping that whoever had been piloting the ship had survived.

He stepped inside, flashing the torch’s light around.  From what he could tell, the interior was charmingly Victorian, with comfortable-looking furnishings and all brass and wood ornaments.

Although the pistol and the katana aimed in his direction stopped his perusal of the interior decorating.

Jack held his hands away from his body, the light pointed away from his would-be attackers.  ‘Whoa,” he said, “take it easy.  I’m not armed.”  He wasn’t; after all, he and Ianto had been out on a date, which meant his Webley was back at the Hub.  They hadn’t expected to be called out like this.  “We found the crash and I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anyone hurt.”

He took a good look at the ones holding the weapons.  The man with the pistol was handsome, with sharp features and a haughty-looking manner despite being disheveled from the forced landing.  The woman with the sword had red hair, and was quite attractive…and was dressed in what must have been the Victorian version of a cat-suit.  Both of them looked highly capable of killing him, which he wanted to avoid at all costs…Ianto hated cleaning blood out of his good shirts.

There were two more people in the cabin.  One was a dark-haired man with a goatee, in shirtsleeves; he was kneeling by the fourth of their party, a young man who was currently unconscious on the floor.  Blood glittered in brown hair as Jack moved the torch to get a better look.

“I have a doctor on the way,” he went on, needing to talk them down.  “He can take a look at your friend, there.  We only want to help.”

“Did Count Gregory send you?” the man snapped, his accent obviously upper-crust British.

Jack frowned.  The name seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it.  Maybe Ianto would recall seeing it in the Archives or something.  “I don’t know who that is,” he answered honestly.   “We just saw the crash and came to help.”

“You’re American,” the woman stated, with the same accent as the man.  “Your accent, it’s American.”

“You could say that.”  It wasn’t the time to correct her; his accent was Boeshanian, it just happened to sound like American Mid-West.  “But you happen to be in Cardiff.”

“Wales?” the man snapped. 

Jack barely kept from rolling his eyes.  “Last time I checked, Cardiff was in Wales, yes.”

The man glanced down at the dark-haired man, and something seemed to pass between them.  Then he looked back up at Jack.  “How did we get here?”  He sounded as if he were _entitled_ to the answer, and while it pissed Jack off, he could understand it; something had happened, and the man was trying to deal with it the best he could.  “We should be in Paris.”

“What I’m going to tell you will sound crazy,” Jack said, “but you’ve been pulled through a Rift in time and space.  That’s how you got to Cardiff.”

The man looked irritated, and the woman sighed.  “Not again,” she actually lowered her sword, then used one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

Jack was confused.  “You’ve traveled by Rift before?”  How was that possible?

“No,” she answered.  “But weird things seem to happen to us a lot.”

“But you also said this was a Rift in time as well,” the dark-haired man said, his own accent French.    “Does that mean we’ve also traveled in time?”

Jack nodded, thinking that if these people were used to strangeness, they might be able to accept it.  “You have.  It’s now the year 2008.”

The three glanced at each other, and they seemed to believe him.  The weapons were completely put away, and the standing man performed introductions.  “I’m Phileas Fogg,” he said, holding out a hand to Jack, who barely controlled the surprised eyebrow going up.  “This is my cousin, Rebecca,” he nodded to the woman, “my man, Passepartout,” that was the bearded man, “and the young man on the floor is Jules Verne.”

Jack took the offered hand, deciding that this was, indeed, the night for surprises.  “Captain Jack Harkness,” he said.  He took a better look at the unconscious man; this wouldn’t be the first famous person he’d met – although finding out that HG Wells was, in fact, a woman had been a bit of a shock – so he was able to hide the fact that Jules Verne and two of his apparently fictional characters should not be in 21st Century Wales.   This version of the author was far too young to have written any of the books he had, which meant they’d had to find a way to get them back to the past, instead of helping them to fit in this time.

He hoped they’d be able to.

Ianto took that moment to join the party, stepping into the airship’s cabin as he glanced around.  He nodded toward the three refugees, then turned to Jack.  “The rest of the team will be here in two minutes, Sir,” he reported.  “I spoke with Detective Inspector Swanson, and she’s agreed to cordon off the area.  I’m using the movie filming cover again, considering the size of the ship involved.”

“Good work,” Jack said.  He turned back to the three conscious people.  “This is Ianto Jones,” he said, then proceeded to introduce his lover to them all, including the unaware Jules Verne.  To Ianto’s credit he simply nodded to each again, not reacting to the fact that they had an injured historical figure among them.  “If you need anything, speak to him.  He can make certain you get it.  As you heard, our doctor will be here shortly, as will the rest of my team.  Hopefully we’ll be able to repair your ship and get you back home again.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Fogg said, sounding a little less like an entitled prat than before. 

“We just want to make sure you get all the help you need.”

“I’m going to go and wait for the rest of the team, Sir,” Ianto said.  “I’ll send Owen and Tosh in directly.”  With one more look around, Ianto left the cabin.

“Now I believe we’re in Wales,” Rebecca snorted. 

“One of the reasons I like the country so much,” Jack leered pleasantly.  “It’s those wonderful Welsh vowels.  Can’t get enough of them.”

Fogg rolled his eyes, then joined Passepartout on the floor next to the young man who would, one day, write novels that would still be famous millions of years in the future.  He made his own check on the unconscious Verne, and if his hand lingered a bit longer on his forehead than strictly necessary, Jack wasn’t going to point it out.

He decided to get more information from Rebecca Fogg, who of them all seemed the most amenable…and quite possibly the most dangerous.  The cat-suit was a definite plus, and the apparently metal-reinforced bodice was just plain kinky.  “Can you tell me what happened before you ended up here?” he asked.  “Your cousin mentioned a Count Gregory…”

Miss Fogg looked pained, but Jack didn’t think it had anything to do with physical injury.  “As we said, we were in Paris,” she answered.  “There’s this madman who calls himself Count Gregory, and he had some sort of device that he was threatening to use to destroy the city.  We tried to stop him.”

Jack nodded, knowing there was some detail left out of the story, but let it lie.  “If this so-called device was that powerful, it might have triggered the Rift event that brought you here.”

“Are we really in 2008?” she asked, sounding a bit put out.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, that’s just lovely…”

There was a clattering from outside, and a bright torch beam almost hit Jack square in the face.  “Oi, Harkness!” Owen’s unmistakable voice called out.  ‘Tea Boy says you’re onboard this reject from a Steampunk convention…”

Rebecca was going for her sword again, but put it down at Jack’s sigh.  “In here, Owen.”

Owen stomped into the airship’s cabin, taking a look around.  “This is nice,” he said sarcastically.  “I hear I have a patient somewhere?”

“Over there,” Jack indicated.  As Owen moved forward, he made the introductions.  Owen didn’t say anything about the obviously familiar names, instead practically bumping Fogg and Passepartout out of the way in order to do his examination.  “Please excuse him, he’s a rude bastard.”

“That’s _Doctor_ Rude Bastard to you,” Owen snarked, digging around in the bag he’d brought with him.   “Now, let’s see what we have here…”  He brought out one of his medical scanners, running it over the unconscious young man, making humming noises as he worked.  “Looks like a concussion and some bruises.  There’s a head wound, but those always bleed worse than they are.”  He flicked the scanner off, turning to glance up at Jack.  “Nothing that a judicious use of painkillers won’t cure.  We might want to keep waking him up every hour for the next twelve hours just to be safe, but he’s gonna be just fine.”

The three refugees looked relieved at that, Fogg more so than the others…at least, that’s what Jack noticed.

Jack was about to thank Owen when more clattering from outside interrupted him.  He recognized the sound of heels on the ship’s plating.  “C’mon in Tosh,” he called out making way for his technician.

Toshiko joined them, her own torch out while her other hand held her field gear.  She looked impressed at the airship.  “This is beautiful,” she said, her eyes wide.

Passepartout looked quite happy at her praise, and Jack knew he must be the one responsible for taking care of the ship.  “This is my technical genius, Toshiko Sato,” he introduced.  “She’ll be the one to help getting your airship back up and running again.”

“Passepartout is the one who knows more about the _Aurora_ than anyone,” Fogg said, confirming Jack’s inference.

The Frenchman stood, wiping his hands on his trousers and then offering one to Toshiko.  “ _Enchante,”_ he said, kissing her hand gallantly.  “I would be honored to work with such a lovely lady.”

Toshiko actually blushed.   “We should get power back up in here first,” she said, getting right to business.  “Then maybe we can see just what we need to do to get your ship airborne again.”

“Come with me,” Passepartout answered.  “I shall be glad to show you my _Aurora_.”  He escorted Toshiko off the main deck, and she looked back at Jack, a bemused expression on her face.

“Let’s get Sleeping Beauty up and to bed,” Owen cut in.  “I’m sure he’s not gonna feel very comfortable still laid out on the floor when he wakes up.”

Fogg looked insulted at Owen’s comment, but he didn’t say anything as together the three men carefully carried Verne up a spiral staircase, into a short hallway and then through a door and into another, smaller cabin, where there was a bunk built into the wall.  The room itself was a shambles from the crash; scientific equipment lay scattered and broken all over the floor, and books were strewn everywhere.  Jack would get Ianto in here to help clean it up; his lover seemed to thrive when he was fixing someone else’s mess…unless it was Owen’s, and then Ianto simply enjoyed giving the medic grief.

“Stay with him, Owen,” Jack ordered.  He didn’t need to tell his teammate just how important the injured man was; even Owen would know who Jules Verne was. 

He turned to Phileas Fogg.  “Maybe you and your cousin can give me a bit more information on what happened?  If we can find out what caused you to be sent to the future, then maybe we can get a clue on how to get you all back.”  Jack figured that they would know more, because if he was any judge then he would guess that both Foggs were a bit more than they appeared.

Fogg looked like he wanted to argue, but he nodded slowly in agreement.  “Of course,” he said, ushering Jack out of the cabin.   “I don’t know how it will help, since whatever it was is still back in our time, but anything to try to get back.”

As they re-entered the main area, the lights suddenly came back on.  Jack blinked roughly, grinning.  “There’s my Toshiko,” he praised.  He slipped his torch back into his pocket.

Ianto had come back, and Gwen had come with him; obviously he’d told her who their guests were, because Gwen had that wide-eyed look of surprise that Jack hoped she’d never lose.   “The entire area’s closed off,” she reported.  “Andy and DI Swanson both have it well in hand; although it’s obvious they’re both panting for an explanation.”

“I’ve told them as much as I could,” Ianto added.  “But Gwen’s right; the longer our guests are here, the more curious our friends in the constabulary are going to get.”

Jack looked from Fogg to Rebecca and then back.  “You mentioned a Count Gregory, Miss Fogg, as well as some sort of device.  Can either of you explain a little better?  Anything might help us get you back to your own time.”  He didn’t miss Ianto’s sudden frown, and hoped his lover would figure out what was obviously bothering him.

“We’ve gone up against Count Gregory quite a few times,” Fogg answered.  “He’s the leader of what he likes to call the League of Darkness, who are basically out to take over the world.  He wants to…” He faded out, as if he didn’t want to reveal too much.  “Anyway, he’s a psychotic, five hundred year-old cyborg with delusions of grandeur.”

It sounded incredible, but then Jack had seen far too many strange things to discount what Fogg was telling them.  He tried to imagine what this Count Gregory would look like, but all that came to mind was some sort of Steampunk Cyberman. 

“The League of Darkness?”  Ianto confirmed.  He was looking a bit pale, but there was an expression of confused recognition in his eyes.

“That’s right,” Rebecca answered.  “Sounds pretentious, but that’s the way of most supervillains anymore.”

“Ianto?” Jack pressed.  “Have you heard of it?”

“I believe there may be something in the Archives about the League of Darkness,” Ianto admitted.  “Although I’m ashamed to admit my mind isn’t bringing up any details.”

Jack squeezed his shoulder, knowing that Ianto hated not knowing anything.  “Why don’t you head back to the Hub and see what you can come up with?”

The younger man nodded. 

“Could I come as well?” Rebecca spoke up, looking almost eager.   “I could help you find what you’re looking for.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Jack answered.  “The less you see of the future, the less damage that might happen when you get back to your own time.”

The woman pouted, and it almost worked, but Jack knew the dangers.

“Actually,” Ianto put in, “that might not be a bad idea.  Miss Fogg knows more about this League of Darkness than I do, and she could make the search go a bit faster.”

“Ianto…” Jack warned.  Letting them see more of the world around them might influence things in the past.

Ianto rolled his eyes.  “Jack, these people have already seen things in their own past that most people wouldn’t know about; do you honestly think they couldn’t keep it secret?  Besides,” he leaned closer, his breath tickling Jack’s ear and making the immortal shiver, “it’s not Miss Fogg you have to worry about seeing too much.”

Jack knew exactly who he was talking about.  “All right,” he gave in.  “But only to the Hub and back.  No side trips.”

He could tell that it was taking a lot of effort for Rebecca not to jump up and down in glee.   “Yes, Sir,” Ianto agreed.  “I’m sure that’s more than acceptable.”

“Should I wear something more presentable?” she asked.

Ianto smiled.  “What you’re wearing is fine; in fact, in some places you would be considered underdressed.”  He offered her his arm, and she accepted, winking toward Jack as the pair of them left the gondola cabin. 

Jack had to chuckle, but at the same time he couldn’t help feeling just the tiniest bit jealous. 

 

**********

 

In the end, it didn’t take all that much to get the _Aurora_ back into flying shape.

Jack found himself enjoying the poking he got to do around the airship.  He was familiar with the era, having lived through it, but this range of technology was somewhat above what he was actually used to.  It was even a bit over what Torchwood had had at the time, and it made him smile to know that no one had gotten their hands on the _Aurora_.  She was obviously Passepartout’s baby, and from the rapid-fire conversations the Frenchman was having with Toshiko – some of them in Japanese – proved to Jack that his technician was also heartily impressed with the ship. 

Not long after Ianto and Rebecca had left, Jules Verne had staggered down the spiral staircase, a bitching and ranting Owen behind him.   “Can someone tell me what the hell’s going on?” Verne asked plaintively. 

Jack was a bit surprised by his accent; he’d been expecting French, but it was closer to American.  He was also surprised at just how fast Phileas Fogg moved the moment Verne’s feet touched the deck.  He ushered the younger man to a chair, and Jack watched as Fogg fussed around Verne without actually seeming to.  

This was interesting.  No wonder Phileas Fogg became a major character in one of his books.

“You should be resting,” Owen sniped, practically slamming his pack down onto the table. 

“You said I shouldn’t sleep because of the concussion,” Verne pointed out, trying to sound pleasant about the whole thing.  He waved Fogg away, and the other man moved off, but he kept a wary eye open.

“No,” Owen answered somewhat impatiently.  “I said you needed to be awakened every hour for the next twelve hours.  You’re the one who decided that meant you should just stay awake.”

“It just means no one has to babysit me,” Verne pointed out.

“Owen,” Jack said, barely containing his smirk.

“Fine.”  The medic threw up his hands.  “When he keels over and carks it don’t come running to me.”  With those parting words, Owen practically stomped out of the airship, muttering about ‘idiots’ and ‘not paying attention to the people who knew better’.

“Never mind him,” Jack rolled his eyes playfully.  “He just hates it when people question his genius.”

Jack regarded the young man closely.  It was hard to see the man he’d become: the famous author whose imagination fueled generations of humans and aliens alike.  He still remembered his first Verne novel, _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea._  His mother had given it to him when he’d turned nine, and Jack had pretended that there was a mysterious submersible beneath the ocean, just off the coast of their colony, and he’d spend many happy hours just hoping to catch a glimpse the _Nautilus_ as it sailed offshore.   

“Jack,” Toshiko’s voice brought him back from his thoughts, “everything here is pretty much repaired.  We just need to find a way to reinflate the balloon.”

“We have equipment for that,” Fogg answered.  “We’ve had damage to the gas bags before, and we learned to keep pumps onboard just for that purpose.”

Toshiko nodded.  “I’ll get with Passepartout on it, then.”  She grinned.  “You have a beautiful ship, Mr. Fogg.”

For possibly the first time since they’d arrived, Jack saw Fogg smile.  It was a small one, but it was very genuine.  “She really is a lovely lady, Miss Sato.  Thank you.”

_“Jack,”_ Ianto’s voice sounded over Jack’s comm.

Jack excused himself, stepping outside the cabin.  It was still dark; it wouldn’t be dawn for a couple of hours yet, all of them having worked nearly through the night to get the _Aurora_ put back together.  “What is it?” he asked after thumbing his own comm. open.

_“We may have found a way to get the_ Aurora _and her passengers back to their own time.”_

“Well done,” he congratulated.  “What have you found out?”

_“Miss Fogg gave me the information I needed to find what we might be able to use,”_ Ianto answered.  _“She explained to me an adventure she and her companions had, that had them traveling back in time using a machine called the_ Phoenix.”

Jack frowned.  That sounded vaguely familiar.  A lot of this mess sounded familiar to him, and he hoped that Ianto had been able to work out just how.  He’d have to ask during the debrief.

_“After their adventure,”_ Ianto went on, _“Torchwood House found a way to confiscate the_ Phoenix’s _time travel engine.  It is currently in storage at Torchwood Two.”_

“Have you called up Archie yet?”  Jack didn’t envy Ianto having to do that.  The head of Torchwood Two was quite an odd man, although his lover seemed to get along with the man fairly well; they’d bonded over a love for all things orderly.

_“I have, and he is having it sent down.  Although he asked that we get Mr. Verne’s autograph for him in repayment.”_

Jack laughed at that.  Trust Archie to come up with that little codicil.  “I’ll see what we can do without tipping off Verne to the fact that he’s going to be a universally-famous author when he gets older.  How long before the engine can get here?”

_“Archie says around mid-afternoon.”_

“Good.  Why don’t you both come back here?  Oh, and can you stop and get something for breakfast on the way?”  Jack’s stomach was telling him that his and Ianto’s dinner the night before had been interrupted.

_“I thought we weren’t supposed to take any side trips,”_ Ianto teased.

“I’m certain that Miss Fogg seeing the inside of a bakery won’t break time.”

_“You should know, Sir,”_ Ianto said, sounding too serious not to be internally laughing.  _“We’ll be on our way back presently.”_

“Looking forward to it,” Jack leered. 

_“More like the chocolate danish you’d want me to bring you.”_

Jack laughed, switching off the audio on his comm. and heading back inside.  “Looks like we have a way of getting you all back to your time,” he announced.  He explained what Ianto had said, about the time engine at Torchwood House.

Fogg nodded.  “That should work.  And Passepartout has experience using the device, so we won’t have a problem.”

“What exactly was the _Phoenix_?” Jack asked, curious and wanting to put information to the niggling notion that he’d heard of it before now.

“The _Phoenix_ was a ship designed by Cardinal Richelieu and built by Alexandre Dumas,” Fogg explained.  “We ended up back in the 1620’s –“

“It was more of a parallel time,” Verne piped up. 

Fogg waved him off.  “Be that as it may, it took Passepartout a while to figure out how the engine worked, and then we were able to get back to our own time, but not after an adventure I’d rather soon forget.”

“You were just bothered that Cardinal Richelieu looked exactly like you,” Verne teased.

“He didn’t look a thing like me!  I’m much more handsome.”

Jack smirked; he couldn’t help it.  Yes, he recalled the story of the _Phoenix_ now, but he hadn’t any idea that yet another famous historical author had been involved.  He really wanted to ask who else these people had met in their travels.

“All right,” he broke into what looked to become an interesting – if heated – discussion.  “We’ll get the time engine back here, and see if it still works.”  He wondered how Yvonne Hartman had missed such a potentially powerful piece of technology…and then remembered just how much Archie had hated her.  He’d most likely hid it from her, and only let Ianto know about it when he’d proven to be serious about how the Archives were supposed to be run.   “If it does, then you all get to go back to your time.”

He had confidence that they did get them back; if they didn’t, time was certainly going to be screwed up beyond all recognition.

 

**********

 

By the time the engine arrived from Torchwood House, the _Aurora_ was ready to fly once more.

Jack did have to wonder just how he was going to convince Toshiko to stay behind; she was completely enamored of the airship, the technology that ran her like an intricate puzzle Toshiko wanted to immerse herself in.   She and Passepartout got along incredibly well, and there could have been a great friendship there if the two weren’t separated by over one hundred years.

Although Jack was certain he’d be glad to see the back of Rebecca Fogg, if only because he hated feeling this jealous of her easy banter with _his_ lover.

 The _Phoenix_ ’s time engine sat in a cleared area on the _Aurora_ ’s flight deck, looking like a tangle of brass and copper.  To Jack, it didn’t look like it would even run, let alone take the airship and her crew back to their own time.  But both Toshiko and Passepartout both assured them that it would function, once the glowing blue crystal was set into place.

The crystal itself had come in its own containment box, with strict instructions written in Archie’s spidery handwriting not to insert it into the mechanism unless the person doing the inserting wanted to go on an unplanned trip.  Passepartout held it almost with a look of awe on his face; Jack could understand it, if the thing did indeed travel in time.  He wondered vaguely why the Doctor hadn’t confiscated it at some point, since he knew the Time Lord’s inherent need to remove all time travel technology from the person who held it.

His deactivated Vortex Manipulator being a case in point.

“You sure that thing’s gonna work?” Owen asked skeptically.  He was standing with his arms crossing his chest, looking as if he wanted to laugh.

“Oh yes,” Passepartout answered brightly.  “I have had hands-on experience with the time engine, and everything is ready to go.”

“Then that’s our cue to head out,” Jack said.  He turned to Fogg, holding his hand out.  “Good luck with getting back.”

Fogg accepted the handshake.  “Thank you, Harkness.  To you and your people.”

“Just doing our jobs,” Jack answered, grinning.

They took their leave of the _Aurora_ ’s crew – Jack barely holding himself back as Rebecca hugged Ianto a little too long for just a friendly gesture – and left the airship, standing well back.   The _Aurora_ ’s propellers started to spin, and the gondola rose off the ground gracefully, the airbag clearing the trees with just mere feet to spare. 

It was above the trees when a blue glow began to flow from the large front observation window, to slowly envelop the airship.  A steady hum arose, and the _Aurora_ began to fade…then it suddenly vanished, the displaced air causing a small vacuum to rustle the leaves. 

“Well,” Gwen said, “there’s something you don’t see every day.”

“Par for the course for Torchwood,” Ianto answered.

“She was a beautiful ship,” Toshiko sighed.

“Bloody hell,” Owen added, “I can’t believe that kid was actually Jules Verne.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Jack replied.  He chuckled.  “C’mon, let’s go back to the Hub.”

As they walked back toward the cordon where the local coppers were keeping the gawkers at bay, Jack took one more look up into the sky where the _Aurora_ had been. 

He wondered just what it would take to convince Ianto that Torchwood needed an airship just like it…

 


End file.
